Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1887-04-22

about to sail Tor South America. HIS
wife, chagrined, broken hearted, re-
manned in Paris and informed her friends
of the facts. but asked them to maintain
silence. They humanely obeyed her re-
quest, and the sudden departure of
Herbert Barrons to South America was
tributed to urgent business. No one
knew that he had embarked in tardy
saier-as lazy ship as ever ventured
into the deep.
The horrors of that long voyage, while
he did duty before the mast, for the pur-
pose of fixing his mind upon something
real, and distracting 1t from the craving
for opium, cannot be related here. Every
person who has been the slave of opium
knows the torturing desire for it that
constantly racks one in moments Of alb
stemiousness, the fierce hunger that
clamors to be fed on substance. No! on
delirium and its shadows-on a waking
sleep and its visions.
Herbert whistled for wind. In
calm he scratched the mast. When
storm ragged. and the slow ship rushed
before the winds. he alone knew no fear.
Then it was that he stood at the wheel
and held the laboring vessel before the
storm. Savage was his delight in the
groaning of the timbers, the shivering of
the masts the shrieks of the wind rent
canvas.
His mates regarded him as a storm
demon, and when again the winds let go
their hold upon the ship, and retired to
the caves whence they came, and the
waves fell and the sun shone again upon
the ocean. they believed he had saved the
vessel, and they hailed him. But he was
morose. The sea was calm again. and
the ship was lazier than ever, and the
blessed opium for which he hungered so
far off as before the coming of the storm.
So he sulked, and only whistled for a
wind, or scratched the mast, and the
sailors pitied him.
But. at last New York-home!
The ship dropped anchor in the bay
and the captain reluctantly dismissed
Herbert from the crew. The ships yawl
landed him at the Battery and his mates
babe him a sad farewell Straight to a
drug store he went, and asked for opium.
The druggist, shrewd man. conducted
Herbert behind the screen and seated him.
Then he made a few inquiries, which
Herbert answered impatiently while his
eyes sought for the opium among the
bottles.
You have your life in your hand. If
you eat opium now. you will never again
abstain from it. You will soon become
mad man. Twill not sell you the drug"
Herbert was within reach of the ma
gician that could free him from torture
of mind and body for the headaches. which
were not violent when he was on the sea,
had come upon him with redoubled force.
These he complained of, and begged for
the opium as a relief from the agony.
The druggist gave him a somnolent, and
it eased the pain. advising him at the
same time to put himself in charge of a
muscular servant, under orders to keep
the doors of their habitation locked and
his master a prisoner, until the craving
for opium should be conquered The
druggist found such servant; and with
this servant Herbert departed to take up
his monastic life.
The pharmacist kept his secret,
and it was not known that
Herbert Barrons was in the city.
ing with success the affairs of the house
of Barrons & Co. This Herbert learned
from an item in a commercial journal.
The story of the sufferlngs on the sea was
repeated on the land; added to them
were his headaches, unrelieved by the
excitement of an occasional storm.
One day Herbert slipped out of the
area gate, and, leaping into a passing cab,
was driven to a gunshop. There he
bought a revolver. Then he instructed
the cabman to drive to DR.. Mobiles ad-
dress. On the way he loaded the pistol.
When the cab stopped at the curb he
Sprang out and ran lightly up the steps to
DIR. Mobiles residence. He noticed that
Grape hung from the knob as he pulled
the bell. He was confident, and smiled.
A servant opened the door. Herbert
inquired for the physician. The servant
pointed to the Grape.
Herbert smilingly handed him the pis-
tol and said: Il meant this for him, and
then for myself; but now that he is dead
| will live
He left the astounded servant, leaped
into the cab, and was driven quickly
away. He had turned the critical point.
With his servant he sailed that day on
long voyage, and was absent many
months. From Asia he wrote to his wife,
Here am amid the opium eaters.
watch them daily. learn their visions
and their dreams of fair women. | COM
pose these with my fancies in regard to
you, when l was under the influence of
the drug, and then these fancies are
placed side by side with my remembrance
of you during my convalescence. Now
l am well. Here where the poppy
grows, and where the baneful drug is
made in its strength and purity, | am
well, without desire TO eat again of the
opium. From here | write to you, as
once l told YOU the story of my thoughts
of you. They hold you before me in a
vision dearer, more beatific far than any
revelation of you which the opium could
possibly give. The halo of truth en-
circles your head. and the light of wifely
pity-neither divine nor human, but
strongly akin to both-suffuses your eyes,
illumines your forehead, while your lips
speak to me the words of self abnegation
that you so generously and honestly
uttered. This is the story Of my thoughts.
l tell it you. May come and tell you